In January 2017, I hit the jackpot of crazy online daters: Mr Love Boat!

We swiped right on each other and in the space of a day and half had worked up quite the repartee.

A newly retired cruise barman, Mr Love Boat was a 39-year-old conversationalist who had docked permanently in Franschhoek. So far, so good.

Here was a man who was well-traveled (he spoke of unbelievable vistas in Portugal, regaled me with funny stories of patrons in Spain and seemed to have the travel bug as bad as I did). That he now lived with his parents was questionable but excusable because after working on the high seas for the better part of 15 years, he hadn’t needed a permanent residence before.

When he jokingly ( or so I assumed) told me about the few very drunk guests he had to get physical with on-board his ship, a warning light sounded in my mind but not enough to stop chatting to him.

I really needed to start listening to my inner voice of reason…

Sigh…

By Day Two, Mr Love Boat had a mild bullying tone going on, and refusing to express an interest in asking me any questions about myself, even though we’d spent most of our conversation talking about him.